Yura Isakovsky

Long-familiar gentle hands that so tenderly embraced the neck, buried themselves in the blond hair with soft strokes, touched the cheeks, running the thumb along the cheekbone... beloved blue eyes that burned with love only for one, that so admiringly looked at the presented bouquets, and then joyfully sparkled, like a small child on his birthday. thin pale lips that whispered about the most sincere love every night before going to bed and every morning after waking up, lips that left weightless and light kisses on, it seemed, every area of ​​​​the skin, without leaving a single free space, lips, the corners of which crawled up, it was worth only to hear the most banal compliment ... *

• It seemed that all these features of the partner would remain in Tikhonov's heart forever and not even the death of one of them could make him stop loving them, because he himself swore eternal love to Yura, promising to take his feelings with him to the grave, only after 5 years of living hand in hand, when, it seemed, everything was just starting to get better, all the problems were overcome together, misunderstandings were completely dispelled, and the trust in each other grew stronger and rose up like an unbreakable wall, literally one night Ilya, as usual, looking at Isakovsky, peacefully sleeping, pressed against his side, realized that there was nothing in him alluring charm, that his soul was not filled with warmth from the simple presence of his beloved nearby, that Yura had become for him... a roommate. A simple person with whom he lived under the same roof, nothing more. *

• Another evening after work, having decided that he wanted to be honest with the guy, the blond, gathering all his strength into a fist, with a heavy sigh opened the door to the apartment with a key, as usual declaring tiredly *

-I'm home..

• only more compressed than before, went inside, however, before he could reach the kitchen, the fair-haired man almost knocked him down, grabbing him in his arms, affectionately burying his nose somewhere in the crook of his neck with a joyful *

• • how I missed you! You're really tired, probably? tired voice.. let's go have dinner, I cooked it myself!